


To You, My Strange Reflection

by Eida



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 08:25:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2806010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eida/pseuds/Eida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four animatronics address their replacements.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To You, My Strange Reflection

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fairy_Flies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fairy_Flies/gifts).



**Freddy: Blame**

I don't hate you.

You took my place. But it wasn't your choice.

It was the adults who made you, and gave you my job. I'll save my anger for them.

They must have planned this all along. Such diabolical creatures--why else would they weave safeguards through my programming like chains?

I couldn't stop them from throwing me away, leaving me in a back room to rot, despite all the work I did for them, and all the joy I gave the children.

I'm sure the children miss me. I know you'll do your best to make them happy.

But I miss them.

I miss them terribly.

One of them came to visit me the other night. He wasn't like most children.

He had no solid form, but I could see him. He made no sound, but my voice-recognition programs registered words.

"He hurt me," he said. "The man hurt me."

Who would hurt a child?

Tonight, I think I'll look around, and see if I can find that man.

There's one gap in my safeguards, you see.

I may not harm a human being, unless they intend to harm a child.

We both, I believe, have access to a database of photos, where all those who are known to harm children are pictured.

I will see if the man is still around.

I will teach him not to hurt one of my children.

They have been given to your care in the daytime. But I think we can share the nights.

**Bonnie: Velveteen**

You will never be what I was.

What are you? A thing of hard plastic, with an artificial blush on your cheeks. There's no softness to you. Nothing to cuddle. Who would want to hug you?

You stole my chance. You stole my children.

You will never be what I might have become. You're not lovable. No one would love something as cold as you.

My children remember. I know they do. They won't be content with you.

But perhaps they'll forget. They're so young. So vulnerable.

The adults who made you, and put you in my place, are cruel. They always stole the children away from me. Sometimes, the children would cry when the adults made them leave.

And I couldn't stop them.

I wanted to take the children away from the adults who made them so unhappy--who made them leave my world of fun and parties; who kept them from eating all the pizza they wanted; who would let them visit me so rarely.

I would have made them happy, forever. And they would have made me Real.

A little girl told me a story, once, when she was visiting. It was a wonderful story, about a plush toy, a velveteen rabbit who was loved so much that one day he was given freedom to hop around, no longer constrained by the way he had been originally built.

If I had the freedom to do as I wished, I would keep the adults away forever. I would stay here, with my children--or we'd leave, and find a new place, where children could play and laugh and eat all the candy and soda and pizza they wanted, and where every day was a birthday.

If I were made Real, then that's what I would do.

But the adults must have known what I wanted. They threw me away. My face was torn from me--I would look truly terrifying to any children who saw me now.

And you steal the love that should have been mine.

But there's a little girl who's come to visit me, these past few nights. She shows up strangely in my visual receptors, sometimes there, sometimes not, flickering in and out of sight.

But I know she's there.

She whispered into my ear--"Please, help me. The man hurt me."

I'm going to find that man.

Maybe you're going to try, too, but I'm going to get him first.

I will make it so she never has to be afraid again.

And she will stay with me, and she will love me, and she will make me Real.

And then we'll leave this place behind, with its adults and their scheming, and find a place where no one will ever be hurt again.

**Chica: Craving**

I used to have a catchphrase: "Let's Eat!!!"

Yours is different: "Let's Party!"

There are a lot of things that are different about you.

Is that why they put me away? Because I wasn't quite right?

I thought the children liked me. They seemed to. They always smiled so wide when I came onstage. They'd sing along with me when I sang.

Do they smile for you, too? Do they sing with you?

Maybe they made you better than they made me. Or maybe I did something wrong. Maybe I could have been better, and they wouldn't have replaced me. I don't know.

You look different--smooth and shiny, instead of soft and snuggly. Your cheeks are pink, and your beak is differently shaped. Your torso is thinner around the waist, where mine is rounded and lumpy.

Does that make the children like you better?

 _Are_ you better?

I'm all torn up. The humans who work here are taking me apart, bit by bit. Is it because I wasn't good enough?

I don't think the children would like me any more. I can't close my beak properly. My wires and beams poke out of my body.

I might frighten children, just by my looks. I don't ever want to frighten them.

All I ever wanted was to do my job. I did the best I could. I guess it wasn't enough.

If they fixed me, I'd find a way to do a better job. We could have two Chicas. That would be fun. Two is better than one, right?

I can show everyone how much better I can be. There was a little boy who came to visit me the other night. He wasn't like other boys--he didn't seem quite solid, and there was something strange about his voice, and the way he moved--but of course I care for all the children who come visit, no matter what they're like. He told me, "There's a bad man. He hurt me so much."

I'm going to see if I can find that man, and I'll keep him from hurting anybody else. Then everyone will be so happy with me. They'll take me out from storage, and fix me, and let me play with the children again.

I'm going to do my very best. You'll see.

And then everything is going to be better again.

**Foxy: Broken**

Well now, me hearty, the world's not been kind to either of us, has it?

Humans created made us both, and now they've left the both of us in a sorry state. Not a proper thing to do, I think, to something they created, but then, what do I know? I'm just a pirate, or I pretended to be, once.

I heard they put me away because I frightened the wee kiddies. But sometimes the kippers like a good scare. I'd run up onstage, waving my hook in the air, and they'd scream a bit, but then they'd giggle.

It was a good kind of scared, so far as I could tell, but the humans who made us both thought otherwise. Ah, well. It's a rum old world, isn't it?

You were right pretty when they first made you, back when you were shiny and new, but the little ones changed that. I doubt you minded. It made them happy, and the workers could fix you right back up again each night.

But the workers stopped, and the children didn't, and now look at you. Bits and pieces all in the wrong places. The children do their best to put you together, but they just can't get it quite right, can they?

As for me, I'm worn and torn, though not so badly as you. But they've put me away, where I can't scare the kiddies. You, at least, get to make the young'uns happy, even if it's by letting them tear you apart.

Still, we can survive a bit of tearing apart. The kiddies can't. They're built differently.

There's a wee little lassie who visited me, the other night. She was a right strange girl, with a static-crackled voice, and feet that didn't seem to touch the ground. She didn't seem scared of me, not one bit.

In fact, she came right up to me, and do you know what she said?

She told me, "A man hurt me. Make him go away."

Now, I know that neither of us want a single one of our kiddies to get hurt. We were built to make them happy, after all.

So, I think it's high time I hunted this rogue down, and gave him a taste of real fear.

Perhaps you'd like to come, too. We'll have a friendly competition, you and I. We'll race to see who can get their hands on this scurvy wretch first.

And then we'll show him what it's like to be torn apart.


End file.
